


Reach Out and Touch Someone

by antheia



Category: WP RPS
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-04-11
Updated: 2006-04-11
Packaged: 2017-10-30 12:34:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/331789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antheia/pseuds/antheia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For <a href="http://ethrosdemon.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://ethrosdemon.livejournal.com/"><b>ethrosdemon</b></a>. Thanks to <a href="http://buhfly.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://buhfly.livejournal.com/"><b>buhfly</b></a> and <a href="http://packyrsuitcases.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://packyrsuitcases.livejournal.com/"><b>packyrsuitcases</b></a> for the beta. Title is actually a tagline from one of AT&T's advertising campaigns.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Reach Out and Touch Someone

**Author's Note:**

> For [](http://ethrosdemon.livejournal.com/profile)[**ethrosdemon**](http://ethrosdemon.livejournal.com/). Thanks to [](http://buhfly.livejournal.com/profile)[**buhfly**](http://buhfly.livejournal.com/) and [](http://packyrsuitcases.livejournal.com/profile)[**packyrsuitcases**](http://packyrsuitcases.livejournal.com/) for the beta. Title is actually a tagline from one of AT&T's advertising campaigns.

Chad is woken by the dulcet strains of "Where Da Hood At?" playing through his cell phone. Glancing at the alarm clock as he reaches for the phone, he curses the cocksucking waste of life that would call him at six o'clock in the morning.

"I swear to Christ, Padalecki, you better be fucking dying in a ditch somewhere..."

"Aw, trying to get your beauty sleep? It's not gonna help, you know." Chad could really cheerfully kill him, he thinks; crawling back under the blankets, phone in hand.

"Why?" he groans, scratching at various body parts with his free hand. "Why why why are you calling me at the motherfucking ass-crack of dawn? It's not human, man."

"What time Is it? Oh, wow -- six? I just got home from work. Well, from the bar _after_ work. Semantics. Anyway, I was..."

"That's so cute -- you missed me. Why don't you call your _girlfriend_ , asshole? I bet Sandy'd love to be woken up by your phone call. Bet she even has a cute little ring tone programmed just so she knows when it's you."

"Didn't even occur to me, man. And hey - quit baggin' on her... You may be right about that ring tone, though..." Jared laughs, full and deep, the way he always does.

It's the miracle of modern technology, or some shit -- he sounds like he's right next to Chad. Which he most certainly isn't. It's hard to miss 6'4" of yammering Texan taking up your bed. Jared is the only person Chad's ever known that can make a king sized bed feel like a fucking double. _Not that I mind all that much..._ He yawns deeply, his whole body tensing and then relaxing completely.

"So what're you doin' today?" As usual, Jared will not shut up.

"I was gonna sleep for a few more hours, for starters. I have stuff to do today, but nothing before noon." Chad is trying, with mixed success, not to think about his meeting schedule. His agent wants to go over a stack of scripts at 1, his publicist wants to discuss his "image" while his stylist picks out some additions to his wardrobe at 2, and best of all is his 4 o'clock with his lawyer, to finalize the divorce papers and discuss the annulment. Just thinking about it makes him groan, trying to come up with excuses for skipping everything.

Jared grunts in protest, "Don't make sounds like that, please."

"Like what, J?" Chad replies, groaning again, with more intent.

"Aw, shit. You're just mean." Jared's voice has dropped half an octave, and Chad knows that tone all too well. It's full of smoke, whiskey, sweat and flesh, and it's having a spectacular effect on Chad's groin. He's starting to think maybe he should blow everything off and just get on a plane to Vancouver. Spend the weekend drinking, fucking and playing video games. Shit, that would be a thousand times better than what he's got planned. He sighs into the phone.

"No fair: too far away to do anything _about_ those noises."

"What would you do if you were here?" So phone sex is lame; it's better than nothing. And if he's awake, he's gonna get something out of it.

"Are you really suggesting that we-"

"Stop thinking. Just talk to me." Chad bites back the comment that's on the tip of his tongue. If he makes a joke, this is all over. Instead, he slides his hand down from his waist to his hip, picturing Jared drunk, confused and turned on -- cheeks and nose red from the beer and whiskey, hair going in about a million directions at once, and his cock straining at the fly of his jeans. Just picturing it, he groans again, and shifts in the bed -- fighting to keep control of his own hand.

The groan is all the incentive Jared needs, apparently. "Oh, god. Wanna touch you so bad."

"Mmmm, me too, baby," Chad coaxes him along.

A few minutes later, Jared's undressed and lying his own bed. Chad scrapes his nails across his chest, trying to call up a sense-memory. He's harder than he can remember being in a long time, and he needs to get off now. No more screwing around.

As if reading his mind, Jared gasps something about wrapping his lips around Chad's dick and he's gone. A little lotion on the palm of his hand, and then he closes his fingers around the head, sliding down to the base and then dragging his fist back up. His whole world is Jared's rasping breath over the phone urging him forward, Jared's gasping voice, begging him to, "Come for me, baby. Oh yeah, you like that don't you..." over and over again. It's not long before he shudders and shakes, forcing himself to breathe as he comes over his hand.

Chad lays there, panting, listening to Jared finishing on the end of the line. There's a deep moan, followed by a muffled, "Oh, God, YES!" and then the labored breathing he's so familiar with. He grabs a couple of tissues from the box on the nightstand, and cleans up a little before resting his palm on his chest, letting the heat work its way into his skin.

"Shit. Why didn't we do that before?" Jared asks, as soon as he's caught his breath.

Chad laughs, "You have anything important to do this weekend?"

"You?" Jared laughs at his own joke.

Chad's meetings are over at five. There's a flight leaving LAX at 6. He'll be on it.


End file.
